"You did not," answered Philip. "It was the old bird that was the fighting cock!" "Well, dear Philip," said Celia, turning to her brother, "this is the great question for you and me: Are we willing to accept Christ's work, and to place no reliance upon our own works? He will be all or nothing. We cannot save ourselves either wholly or in part. Our salvation is either done, or to do; and if it be yet to do, it can never be accomplished." "Then what place do you find for good works in your system?" "No place, as the efforts of the slave to set himself free;[11] every place, as the endeavor of the child to show his love to the reconciled father."[12] "Well," said Philip, reflectively, "I found long ago that your view was the soil which grew the finest crop of them. Don't look at me so, Patient. Let me talk as I think; it is natural to my mind to express itself as I do. I don't mean anything wrong." "The Lord will have that out of you, Mr. Philip, if you be His." "Well," replied Philip, gravely, "I suppose He knows how." "Ay, He knows how," answered Patient, sadly. "But don't you give Him more work in that way than you can help, Sir. The surgeon's knife may be very necessary, but it never can be otherwise than painful." Celia did not quite agree with Patient here; but it was a secondary point, and she said nothing. Philip looked at his watch, and, declaring that he could not stay another minute, kissed Celia and Patient, saying, "_A Landrécies!_" as he left the room. "I see a long, weary walk for Mr. Philip, Madam," remarked Patient, when he was gone. "If he be to reach the good City at all, 'twill sure be by a path of much affliction." Celia was rather disposed to think the same. Lady Ingram's expectation that she would be able to procure only small rooms at Landrécies was verified. The apartments to be obtained were both small and few. Lady Ingram and Celia occupied the same bed-chamber. Until this happened, Celia had no idea what a very artificial flower her handsome, stately step-mother really was. She now found that the fourth part of her hair, and nearly three-fourths of her bloom, were imparted. Every morning Lady Ingram sat for two hours under the hands of Thérèse, who powdered her hair, rouged her cheeks, applied pearl-powder to her forehead, tweezers to her eyebrows, and paint to her neck, fixing in also sundry false curls. "My Lady," asked Patient, in her quietest manner, the first evening at Landrécies, which was the 12th of July, "if the Prince Eugene take us prisoners, what will become of us, if you please?" "Prisoners!" repeated Lady Ingram. "Absurd, Patient! You speak as if you thought a defeat possible. The armies of the _Grand Monarque_ and those of King James together to be routed by one Savoyard! Preposterous!" "They were put to flight at Malplaquet, Madam" (which place Patient pronounced to rhyme with jacket); "and 'tis not so many days since the Prince took Le Quesnoy."[13]